A Prince and His Pride
by ManontheMountain
Summary: Fourth son to the King, Prince Arthur leads a life of luxury and lazing around. That is, until a dragon is sighted nearby. But dragons only kidnap princesses, right? Meanwhile, Alfred has just moved into the area and is quickly smitten with the young Prince, who won't give him the time of day. His only hope is to don some armor and try to sweep Arthur off his feet. MA. For Foofie88
1. Chapter 1

There were so many people! And they all looked so similar! How did they ever tell each other apart? It baffled him. They none had any distinctive markings, or if they did, kept them covered. What was the point of that? He thought it would have been easier to tell them apart if they didn't bother with clothes. Besides, why would anyone want to be clothed? Dirty, smelly, itchy fabric. It was so uncomfortable that he almost didn't know what to do with himself.

Stripping down was the obvious solution, but he knew better than to think the people would be okay with that. Even though he was pretty confident that his body was physically appealing. However, attracting a lot of attention wasn't something he meant to do, especially on his first visit to the village. Since he'd only recently moved into the area, familiarizing himself with the settlements near his new home was not optional. It was required, so there he was, in horrid, uncomfortable clothes, wandering through a village he had yet to hear the name of.

People he didn't know made their slow way along the streets, and he followed a few into a large market where they wandered from stall to stall to see what was being sold. He was insanely curious and didn't hesitate to peer around others to see, as well. Food, trinkets, jewelry, cloth, medicines and tonics, house wares, everything. It was all so fascinating, and he itched to buy it all, but he had no money, and nothing to sell. Next time he visited, he would bring a purse, and gold. Enough to buy whatever he wanted.

For now, though, he forced himself to be content with just looking, and it was as he was passing a stall selling polished mirrors that he caught sight of his reflection. He didn't realize who it was a first, but he quickly became enthralled with himself. Yes, he was very handsome, as far as people went, which was no surprise. He'd always been strong and taken good care of himself. Still, this was unusual. Ashen blond hair was parted back from his face, and there was a small piece that stuck up and curled back—looking at it made him chuckle. And his eyes. They didn't look like anyone else's eyes, not that he'd ever seen. A familiar blue practically glowed in his irises, and his pupils…hm. They weren't quite round. He was going to have to work on that.

All-in-all, though, he'd turned out rather well. He made a good man.

"Make way!" a voice suddenly shouted over the chatter of the marketplace, drawing his attention from himself. "Make way for the Princes!"

Heads turned and people immediately began to move as a group of six horses and several foot guards in expensive-looking livery and armor approached. He didn't pay much attention to the guards, but he was very interested in the riders, if they were indeed Princes. The first and last were simple guards, carrying banners decorated with wyverns.

He had to crinkle his nose. Wyverns? Sly, clever tricksters. Cowards. Why would anyone want to carry them on their banners and shields? It made no sense to him, but his attention was soon redirected to the other three riders. Perfect posture as they rode, confident, aloof expressions, expensive tunics and robes, hands heavy with rings, and a crown upon each head. These were the Princes of the Kingdom.

The first three, all redheads, rode side-by-side, the oldest two both about twenty years, and the younger only a couple behind, eighteen or so. They had fierce, thick eyebrows and green eyes set in pale faces, and carried themselves with all the pride a Prince should have.

Standing with the villagers, he watched them ride by then turned his gaze on the fourth Prince. Creases appeared on his forehead and he tilted his head to the side as he examined the youngest of the four.

Thick eyebrows like his brothers', and green eyes, but his hair was gold instead of fire, and he had a softer face, though that may have been due to his youth. This Prince seemed barely old enough to be considered a man, and he looked bored compared to his siblings. His robes weren't quite as rich or as vividly colored, and he wore only one ring, as well as a simple silver circlet over his unruly locks. There were freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks.

He stared as the youngest Prince, riding a little behind his brothers, came closer then passed by—suddenly, green eyes were on him, and the blond reined in his horse. The two looked at each other for several moments, until the guards and older two Princes realized their companion had fallen behind.

"My Prince?" The guards were concerned and seemed to be considering if they should treat him as a threat or not.

The blond didn't respond to them. "What's your name?" he asked, lifting his chin just slightly to give a glimpse of a milky pale throat.

It took a second for him to gather his thoughts enough to answer. "Alfred, your Highness," he introduced himself, bowing slightly, though he didn't look away from the Prince's face.

"You have strange eyes, Alfred."

That put a smile on his face, though he didn't have a chance to say anything else before the oldest Prince interrupted.

"Arthur," his tone was lazily scolding, and it put a deadpan look into the blond's eyes, "leave that man alone. Father is expecting us."

Alfred bowed again, lower this time. "I hope to see you again soon, Prince Arthur." He didn't try to keep the suggestive edge off his tone.

Surprise flashed across the young Prince's face, though he was quick to cover it up with a careful amount of disdain, and looked away. "Don't hold your breath." Then he nudged his horse forward and rode away without a backwards glance.

As the Princes and their escort moved on and eventually vanished from sight, the villagers went back to their buying and selling, and Alfred soon found that he was the only one who hadn't moved. How could he? The only place he wanted to go was in the direction the Princes had gone. He wanted to talk to Arthur. Doing so could get him into trouble, however, so he remained where he was.

"Sir? Are you all right?"

Drawn out of his thoughts, Alfred blinked a few times then looked at the man who'd spoken to him. He was a blond, with slightly long hair and a wayward curl, and blue-violet eyes behind a pair of glasses. He looked nice, and Alfred decided he'd remember to tell him apart from all the other people he'd seen today.

"Yes, I'm fine." Absently, he looked back after the Princes.

"Impressive, aren't they," the stranger commented, following Alfred's gaze. "They pass through most days, but I've never seen Prince Arthur stop to talk to someone before."

A ghost of a smile crossed Alfred's face. "Interesting." His companion looked at him for a moment.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

Alfred smiled at him. "Never better." Another glance after the Princes left him with a sense of determination. "Say, where did you buy your glasses? I'm Alfred, by the way."

Surprised by the sudden change in topic, the other man's eyebrows quirked. "The glass-mason's shop."

"Thank you," Alfred paused, still looking at the blond.

"…Matthew," he supplied, then smiled shyly.

"Matthew. Would you show me where the glass-mason lives?" Glasses would be an interesting thing to try, at least until he got his eyes sorted out. Besides, as handsome as he knew he was considered to be, he wanted to see what he could do to manipulate his appearance.

"Of course. One moment, please." Matthew turned and vanished into the crowd milling about the marketplace, leaving Alfred to wait for him. A few minutes passed, then the blond reappeared, a sack over one shoulder and a rope in his hand, leading back to…

"I didn't know there were bears in this area."

Matthew smiled and rubbed the bear's head affectionately. "There aren't, but I'm not from here, either. Kuma and I are from the North."

Well, he'd found an interesting human to befriend. Good. He didn't want boring companions.

Together, the two men and the bear began to weave through the other villagers until they'd made it out of the marketplace. Only when they were free of the crowd and would easily be able to hear each other did Alfred decide to strike up a conversation.

"Where in the North are you from?" he asked, curious because he'd spent quite some time in the colder regions of the world, but he'd never seen a bear as white as Matthew's Kuma.

"The Far Ice," Matthew responded with a small smile. "Where half the year is night, and half of it is day. There are many bears there, white to blend in with the snow, and fierce hunters. Most Far Ice men keep dogs, but I have Kuma. I was a boy when my father killed his mother while hunting, and gave him to me as a cub, to keep and raise. He's my best friend." The blond's smile widened slightly and he set a hand on the bear's shoulder, lightly gripping the white fur.

Alfred couldn't have been more fascinated by the story. "Why did you come here?"

"Keeping Kuma safe from hunters is easier when people see him as a valued pet rather than a threat or game."

He'd travelled all this way just to protect his bear? He seemed a perfect example of how dedicated humans could be, and Alfred didn't try to hide that he was impressed. "He's lucky to have you."

"We're lucky to have each other."

The two looked in time for their eyes to meet, and smiled, continuing on their way to the glass-mason's as Kuma followed along.

X

Boring, boring, boring. Really, he couldn't stand any of this state's business and whatnot. It was a job for his father and his advisors, not him, a Prince with better things to do with his time. He could be practicing his archery, or studying the scrolls in the library, or out for a ride. Anything would be better than sitting here listening to dusty old men discuss dusty old problems about feuding villagers and crop taxes. None of it mattered to him in the slightest, yet there he was, sitting beside his brothers while the King and his council droned on and on.

They were required to come to these meetings, to learn what responsibilities they would have to shoulder one day, as Princes and when Seamus took the throne from their father. Arthur honestly didn't understand why he was forced to be there. He was the fourth son. He would never have enough power to have these responsibilities.

Fourth son of the King, fourth heir to the throne, fourth Prince of the Kingdom who would amount to nothing but a Duke or Lord with some pitiful spit of land on the Northern shore because his brothers would never give him more than that. All he had to look forward to was an arranged marriage to some woman he had yet to meet and being more or less excommunicated by the three redheads sitting to his left.

Idiots, all of them.

Well, he said so, but he knew they weren't. Seamus was brilliant, and a fierce warrior, as was Allistor. Dylan was quieter than the older two, but still an excellent swordsman. They each had proven themselves on the field and in the courts held by their father. It was a lot to live up to, and Arthur had no intention of doing so. Not for him, no thank you.

Sighing, Arthur leaned against the armrest of his chair and propped his chin in his hand, looking exceptionally bored. This was going to last for at least another hour, and in that time he could have read at least another book, or taken a bath, perhaps both. Yes, a nice, long, hot bath, with candles, and scented soaps from the kingdoms to the east, and he'd have the servants bring in one of those polished brass tables that hung on the side of the tub, so he could have some wine and a book, perhaps a biscuit while he soaked so that his skin would be softer than silk.

_Lovely,_ the blond thought dreamily, a vague smile lifting the corners of his mouth. That was exactly what he was going to do once they were dismissed.

"Arthur," a low whisper interrupted his thoughts, and an elbow nudged into his side, "pay attention."

Annoyed now, Arthur shot a dirty look at his brother but did as he was told, sitting up straighter and directing his gaze at his father. King Raolin was an intimidating man, with broad shoulders, strong features, and thick, fiery red hair that fell to his shoulders. It was easy to see where the three older Princes got their looks from, though they still kept their hair short and wouldn't allow it to grow out until they'd taken wives. He'd gotten his looks from his mother, though he had his father's eyes. That was just about all he would inherit from him.

"We've had troubling reports from farms near the Teeth, Sire," one of the advisor's was speaking and so had all of the King's attention. "There are rumors in the market that a dragon's been spotted."

Dragon?

That made Arthur sit up a little more in his chair and listen much more closely. A dragon, here? On their island? It was almost unheard of.

King Raolin was just as interested as his youngest son. "Where?"

"Flying over the southern tail of the mountain range. Most of the information is mere gossip, but the more dependable sources claim it's relatively small, for a dragon, and nearly invisible against the sky thanks to its blue hide."

"It must be young," the King mused, sitting back in his throne and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Has it attacked anyone?"

"No, Sire, not that we know of," another advisor answered him, and Raolin nodded.

"Good. Keep me informed should you hear anything more. A dragon is troubling news, though it may only be passing through, as we should hope for."

Respectfully, each advisor ducked their heads and bowed. "Yes, Sire."

Once they'd all straightened again, King Raolin stood. "That's enough for today." Sweeping his robes along, he turned and made for a door in the side wall as the advisors began to gather up their scrolls and books, all the papers they'd used during their meeting with the King. Arthur was on his feet before the door had even closed behind his father.

Time for his bath, and he knew just what sort of book he wanted to read while he soaked. If a dragon had been sighted over the Teeth, then he wanted to know as much about the creature as the royal library could tell him. It would probably going to take him all night to do the research, but that was all right. He rather enjoyed reading at night when no one would interrupt him.

With that single purpose in mind, the blond left his brothers behind as he moved towards the hall's main door, only to be called after.

"Say, Arthur, what's your hurry?"

The blond stopped, his eyes rolling towards the ceiling as he breathed out a curse. What the hell did they want now? But he fixed a neutral expression in place before he turned, and spoke politely. "I'm in need of a bath, and I'd like to do some reading about dragons. Those rumors have me curious."

Flanked by Allistor and Dylan, Seamus came closer to his youngest brother, an irritating grin pulling at his mouth. "Always the scholar, aren't we."

"You'd do better to go practice your swordsmanship," Allistor commented, shoulders held crookedly and his head tilted off to one side. "You'll need it, if that dragon decides to head this way."

Dylan chuckled suddenly, gaining the attention of the other three, then smiled and shook his head. "Sorry, I was just thinking, with all these baths you're always taking, Arthur, that the dragon might smell you and mistake you for a princess. It'd be a shame if he kidnapped you."

That had Arthur's cheeks reddening, and he fought back a glare. "I'd rather that than smell like a horse."

"Yes, we know," Allistor was on the verge of laughing, "but if you're not careful, princes from other kingdoms will ask Father for your hand in marriage before he can find you a bride!" All three of the redheads burst into laughter, and Arthur knew his face was flaming with embarrassment and anger.

Between laughs and gasps for air, Seamus managed to look at the blond. "Who was that you were talking to in the market today?" he asked, an arm on Allistor's shoulder for support. "I hope it wasn't some poor peasant you've convinced to share your bed. No one deserves that punishment!" Another round of laughter had them doubling over, and Arthur sneered as best he could.

"At least there would be someone warming my bed," he hissed, and they took a moment to catch their breath while they waited to hear what he had to say. "You lot couldn't get a starving barmaid to spread her legs for you, not with all the gold in the treasury."

"Oh, she'd spread her legs, all right, for no gold at all." Wiping at his eye, Seamus put on a smirk he was gaining a reputation for amongst the servants. "My worry, little brother, is that you're probably spreading yours."

Arthur opened his mouth to say something, anything, to refute that, but nothing came to mind. So he snapped his teeth together, glared, and, turning on his heel, stalked off, his spine straight and shoulders stiff as his grinning brothers watched him leave. It wasn't until he was sure he was out of their sight that he let himself relax, and then his shoulders sagged, and he slouched more than any Prince ever should as he stood in an out-of-the way corner where he wouldn't be noticed. Dealing with them was always so tiring, and now he wanted that bath more than ever. Soaking in hot water was the perfect way to rid himself of this sort of tension, and he didn't care that his brothers thought he smelled like a girl. There was nothing wrong with being clean.

But the jokes about who he slept with always got to him, even though he'd never….it wasn't like he'd said anything…

Under his breath, the blond Prince cursed them and himself. This was pointless. He really shouldn't let them get under his skin so easily. He should be used to it by now, and he was, mostly, just not when it came to them digging at what they thought he did behind closed doors. And it wasn't that he'd ever slept with a man; he'd never bedded or been bedded by a man, though there were a few maids working in the castle that he'd seduced just to prove to his brothers that he could. He hadn't liked it, but that still wasn't enough of a reason for them to accuse him of spreading his legs for a stranger in the marketplace.

Even thinking about it made him feel sick.

_No, don't let them do this to you. Ignore them. They're idiots and nothing more._

In an attempt to shake off his shame and embarrassment, Arthur took a breath and regained his posture, then stepped back into the light of the hall and continued on his way to his rooms. Who cared what his brothers thought, anyway? Not him, and he would prove it. He was going to take the most luxurious bath of his life, and he'd smell like a field of wildflowers if he wanted to, and then they'd see how much their opinions mattered to him.


	2. Chapter 2

This was one of the best rooms in the entire castle—the loyal library. It was huge, with floor-to-ceiling shelves separated by tall windows. Sunlight streamed in, weak and filled with floating bits of dust, lending an ethereal feel to the otherwise still, silent room.

For now, Arthur paced around the shelves on his own. He would call for Geoff, his childhood playmate and now near-constant companion, later. They'd gotten along well enough as boys, but now they didn't have much in common. Still, Arthur was fond of him, and often had to remind himself that Geoff was a servant because he was so used to thinking of him as an equal.

He would eventually send for his old friend, who would then bring a few younger servants, and they would be the ones to carry whatever books Arthur chose back to his rooms. Finding those books was something he preferred to do on his own. It was a hunt more than anything, as books were occasionally added to the library without anything being rearranged—there was very little by way of organization amongst these dusty old shelves. So Arthur paced slowly, green eyes scanning for names he could recognize from the dragon lore he'd grown up hearing about.

_Count Jofre and the Slaying of Vibria_ caught his eye, and he paused long enough to reach up, hook his finger over the binding, and pull the book free of its fellows. It's cover was dyed leather, a faded red that was fitting for the story he knew he would find there.

Arthur took a moment to set the book on a nearby table before continuing his search. By the time he'd collected five more stories, his stomach was growling at him, and his tongue was sticking to the roof of his mouth for want of a drink. Trusting that no one would come and disturb the books he'd set out so far, the blond abandoned the library and made his way through the castle. His parents and brothers were likely in the dining hall, enjoying their dinner, and he probably should join them.

Probably.

Except he would much rather eat in peace, without the taunting of his brothers to disrupt his appetite. In order for that to happen, he forwent the dining hall—it was always so crowded and noisy—in favor of journeying into the belly of the castle. The lower he went, the more servants he encountered, and he knew he wouldn't meet anyone else. These rooms and halls were the servants' quarters, store rooms, and the kitchens, and below those, the dungeons. Arthur hadn't wandered that far since he was a small boy, since he'd managed to escape the clutches of his nurse and gone adventuring down into the bowels of the castle.

All he remembered was that it was dark and cold, and that it smelled. Something had frightened him, sent him running until he was hopelessly lost. He didn't know how long he'd spent huddled in some dirty corner, but his child's mind was sure it had been ages. Eventually, one of the dungeon guards had found him and carried him back up, to a panicked nurse and frantic parents. He'd needed a bath, and hadn't slept well for weeks. In the years since, he'd flatly refused to visit the dungeons for any reason. Merely passing the stairs down to them made him shudder in horror and disgust. It was just unfortunate that he had to come this way to get to the kitchens.

Why anyone thought it would be a good idea to store food near that disgusting place was beyond him.

But Arthur put thoughts of the dungeon out of his head at the soonest possible moment. He was hungry and he had no intentions of letting a few bad memories spoil his appetite. Besides, the closer he got to the kitchens, the more he noticed the smells. Roasting meat, fresh bread, wine being mixed…heavenly.

When he was just down the hall from the kitchens, he had to put his back to the wall and shuffle along to keep out of the way of the servants. Several lifts were set into the opposite wall, all in use to save time taking the food up to the dining hall. Floors above, another team of servants worked to empty the lifts and deliver the food to the tables while more was sent up.

Slipping past those working down here was a matter of spilled food, wasted time, and potential wrath from the nobility upstairs. Arthur wasn't about to disrupt the organized chaos he was witnessing and so carefully navigated his way past the lifts and into the kitchens themselves.

He'd passed along the wall to an out-of-the-way corner before anyone noticed him.

"Prince Arthur!" the shouting of his name caused a half-second pause in the bustle before everyone went back to work, except for the man who had spoken. Short and sturdy, he had dark hair pulled back in a neat braid and a close-trimmed beard, and his hands worked incessantly at a lump of dough on the table before him. "You should be upstairs with the King and your brothers!" Despite the words coming out of his mouth, the man's tone was far from serious. When he and Arthur looked at each other, there was more than a little understanding between them.

Rolling his eyes even as he smiled, the blond Prince settled at a small wooden table in his claimed corner. It was the same place he usually chose when he wanted to eat in peace, so the kitchen staff tended to leave it vacant for him.

"Haila, prepare a plate for our Prince. He looks famished."

Arthur's stomach rumbled in agreement.

Moments later, a plain but pretty girl in a maid's smock carried a plate and goblet towards him, and smiled as she set them down. "My Prince." She curtsied respectfully, casting a lingering glance at him before returning to her duties.

Arthur offered a polite nod then turned his focus on his food. It was nothing fancy, not at all like what his family was eating upstairs, but that didn't matter. He was hungry, and food was food. So a small loaf of bread, seasoned ham, and block of cheese were good enough for him. That, and a goblet of wine to wash it all down. Besides, this food was far from plain. It was all freshly made and more than enough to satisfy his appetite, though he didn't stop himself from eating a little more than he needed, even if it did mean his stomach would be mildly uncomfortable for an hour or so. It didn't take him long, however, and when he was finished, the kitchen was still in a frenzy to get everything up to the feast taking place in the castle's upper levels.

Silent and keeping out of the servants' way, Arthur carried his empty plate and goblet over to where the other dirtied dishes were stacked to be taken out and washed. No one called out to him as he left, but he was used to that. They were all busy at work, and he had a library to get back to, so he was quick in making his way back up through the castle.

Thankfully, the books he'd chosen hadn't been touched during his absence, and Arthur returned to his search with renewed vigor. If that dragon ever showed its face around here, he wanted to know everything he possibly could about it.

x

Lazily, Arthur trailed his fingers through the water, stirring the bubbles and enjoying the warmth that surrounded him. Baths really were one of his favorite pastimes—it was too bad his brothers had never taken a liking to them. Sometimes they smelled worse than their horses.

He never had that problem. He bathed daily, sometimes twice if he'd been denied access to a proper washroom the day before. That only happened on hunting trips and long travel, and Arthur didn't particularly like hunting, anyway.

This, though, he always thoroughly enjoyed. Hot water, scented soaps, dozens of candles spaced around the walls, and of course, his personal handful of servants. Today, he had the extra delight of a pile of books and scrolls to read, one of which was propped up on a little silver stand, held clear of the water on a brass tray. One of Arthur's servants was tasked with turning the pages for him so he wouldn't wet the paper. Besides, his hands were busy—a different servant was cleaning and trimming his nails while he soaked, one hand at a time. So he could still play with the bubbles while he read.

The books he'd found were fascinating, old tomes with dried out, cracked leather covers and yellowed pages—he discreetly enjoyed the smell of them—dry and dusty on their shelves in his father's library. Until he'd come along and found them. It had taken him all afternoon to collect enough of them to satisfy his curiosity, but he'd done it. The stack he had now would keep him busy for a day at least, maybe two. Then he would see to it that someone organized that library so his next search through the shelves wouldn't take so long. Really, he would have thought the royal library to be better tended, though he did vaguely enjoy wandering among the shelves.

"Turn," the blond commanded, and his servant carefully flipped the book's page. He pulled his hand from the boy's grasp and examined his nails—clean and neatly trimmed. Without a word, Arthur lifted his other hand and began reading as the boy hurried around the tub to work on the Prince's nails while he read.

In this particular story, the dragon was a great fire-breather, and guarded a cursed treasure that killed any man who tried to take even a single golden coin. That seemed to be a common theme among the stories, that dragons hoarded treasure, and he had heard of it growing up, as well. If the dragon near the Teeth decided to stay, it wouldn't be long before the beast started attacking castles and towns in search of gold for its lair. Hopefully, it wouldn't stay.

When his hand was released, Arthur checked the quality of his nails then sank farther into the tub. One of his feet was lifted from the water so his toenails could be taken care of next.

If he hadn't been so used to this treatment, it would have been a distraction.

'Turn."

This time, the dragon came from the river and demanded a beautiful young virgin to be sacrificed to it each month, and charmed each one to their deaths by singing and luring them into the water to drown.

Well, there were definitely some mixed opinions in this book. Some of the stories labeled dragons as bloodthirsty monsters. Others described them as scholars, lovers of music and art, or defenders of some great prize.

Arthur wasn't sure how a great scaly beast would enjoy art, much less find the opportunity to see any. What did they do, delicately rip apart castles and steal the art to decorate their lairs? It sounded ridiculous. Trying to imagine what that would look like was nearly impossible, though that was probably because Arthur had never seen a real dragon before. They didn't visit this area very often, and didn't usually stay for long. None of the princes had ever seen one, but their father had, and based on the stories he'd told, the villagers near the Teeth were right to be worried.

But, soaking in his luxurious bath, Arthur could only be curious.

With all these books he'd picked out, he was going to have to make notes to keep his findings organized. That could wait until after his bath, though.

"My Prince," the servantboy was hesitant to interrupt the blond's reading, "if you wish, we are ready to cleanse you."

Arthur finished the block of text he'd been reading then nodded, and the tray was removed to keep the book safely out of the way of the water. Carefully, the Prince stood and stretched, then held still as his few personal attendants began the task of washing him. One's sole duty was his hair, and Arthur didn't try to hide his enjoyment at that. She was the same maid who always tended to his golden locks, so she easily kept the soap away from his face and eyes, and rubbed his scalp with practiced skill.

Sometimes, when he had a headache, Arthur would send for her, and have her rub his scalp and finger-comb his hair until the pain had eased. This was easily the best part of bathing, and he let himself relax nearly to the point of falling. Really, being scrubbed from head-to-toe was the best feeling in the world.

When the maid's hands left his hair, Arthur let out a slightly disappointed sigh and opened his eyes. His bath was over.

The process of rinsing off was a matter of two of the servants lifting large pails of water and pouring them over his head. It didn't take long, and soon he was out of the tub. Toes curling into the thick rug on his washroom floor, Arthur was patient as he was toweled off, and remained where he was as a large bottle of oil was fetched from the cabinet.

Careful not to waste a drop, the oil was poured onto soft strips of cloth then rubbed into Arthur's skin. Starting at his neck, they worked their way down until nearly every inch of his pale skin shone. The treatment would leave his skin feeling soft as silk and as flawless as a man could get.

Next came his clothing, which, at this time of night, was nothing but a robe to keep him from catching a chill before he went to sleep. Otherwise, he stepped into a pair of thick stockings to protect his feet from the stone floors. His footsteps were nearly silent as Arthur, accompanied by his servants, went from the washroom to his bedroom.

"Prince Arthur," the oldest servant asked, "should I send for Haila?"

"No," the blond replied, his attention on the stack of books on his bedside table. The girl in question, Haila, was a maid at the castle, the same one who'd served him his dinner, and also one of the girls he'd seduced in order to prove himself to his brothers. Occasionally, he would call for her and sleep with her, to keep them from making too many comments about him. Tonight, he had no interest in sex, which truthfully wasn't much different from other nights. This time, he just had something else to focus on.

"Very well. Do you require anything else?"

"No, you are dismissed."

Quietly, the servants bowed then left the blond Prince alone in his chambers. There would be someone posted outside his door should he need anything, but for the rest of the night, and no one would bother him save for in an emergency.

Now he could fully dedicate himself to the study of dragons.

With a few candles to provide enough light to read by, Arthur climbed onto his bed and settled beneath the covers. The book he'd been reading during his bath sat on top of the stack, carefully marked so he wouldn't lose his place. Once he was comfortable, he picked up the book and rested it in his lap, then opened it to its proper page. Where had he stopped?

Ah, yes, the tale of Siegfried. A dwarf's plot to steal back his gold, a giant-turned-dragon—so bathing in dragon blood made one invincible? Interesting.

Arthur decided that was something to remember so he could write it down later.

Hours passed and the candles burned lower and lower as the Prince read through the books he'd collected the stories varied wildly, and he knew he would have to read them all again and take close notes if he wanted to pick out any patterns or repeating details. That would be a task for the morning, however, as his candles were almost used up, and his eyes were starting to ache for sleep.

Sighing wearily, the Prince set the most recent book aside then leaned and blew out the candles. Darkness immediately surrounded him, quiet and peaceful, and he shimmied farther under his blankets. The softness of his pillow felt like heaven—the instant he closed his eyes, Arthur was sound asleep, his mind dredging up half-formed dreams of dragons and virgins and knights.


End file.
